The House Guest

by Rosa Sophia

  Katherine disengaged from his arms and headed toward the car. This time, he didn’t stop her. He watched her get in the car and back out of the driveway.

  ***

  She made sure she was alone there. Then she drove into the wide driveway and parked behind the Maslin house, hiding her car from the road. She wasn’t supposed to be there. Not while Jonathan Stark’s death was still being investigated.

  She climbed out of the car and walked toward the enfeebled barn. She opened the doors very carefully, and then crept inside with the utmost care. It was early evening, but the daylight was barely penetrating the few openings in the barn.

  Kat found the place where John Maslin’s body had once lain. She gathered her courage and began to search the barn. She wasn’t looking for evidence of murder, like pieces of old cloth or lost trinkets. She was looking for a shovel.

  Every so often, she would see a shadow that looked like a man or an object propped against the wall that appeared to be a limp body. But upon drawing closer, she would find it was simply a shadow or a few old boxes. It was very dangerous to be here. The roof could collapse completely.

  A ray of well-positioned sunlight allowed her to read a few of the words on some of the boxes. Curly cursive handwriting announced that cookware was in one of them. She went farther into the barn.

  Old rusted tools and pieces of farm equipment were sitting covered in cobwebs. Kat grabbed the shovel that was leaning innocently against the wall and headed for the door.

  The cold bit into the flesh on her cheeks. A sharp breeze cut through the shrubs and in between the tree trunks. It had been an almost unbearable summer, so the winter was bound to be much, much worse. It already felt like snow was on the way, the very essence of winter that froze the ground and made the soil as hard as a rock.

  If there was ever a good time to dig, that time was now. The first frost was yet to arrive and like a grave robber looking for loot, Kat was about to desecrate the very ground she walked on in search of the truth.

  She picked a spot in a clearing.

  She thought, where would Phillip have gone?

  Kat tried to put herself in the mind of the killer.

  I am a murderer. I have just killed my son. I have just destroyed my son because he was gay. I hate him. I must bury my son. He deserved it. Where will I put him? What grave will I choose?

  She thought through all these things and more, trying to become what she most despised. In order to paint a picture, she had to see the details in her mind. She had to understand where everything went. She had to become the image.

  Kat stabbed the shovel into the ground and began to dig.

  ***

  The sun was bright and sparkled on the warm, shallow water of the creek near the Maslin house the year Katherine was four years old.

  Phillip watched a station wagon pull into the driveway.

  “Damnation,” he muttered under his breath. He set the pail down by the barn and started back toward the house.

  He was not as able as he had once been. He had another farmhand, a young man who lived down the street. Phillip paid the kid to help around the house, but the aging farmer insisted upon feeding the animals as he had always done before. After all, he didn’t want to feel completely incapable.

  More and more people had been visiting the house lately and Phillip didn’t like it one bit. There was a nurse who attended to Julie, who was bedridden most of the time. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her and Phillip didn’t want to think about it. He had only agreed to have the nurse over because he didn’t want to have to take care of his wife all the time. He refused to cook for her, which was something the nurse agreed to do. It was hard enough for Phillip to feed himself, let alone someone else.

  He was wrinkled, his joints ached, his eyesight was bad and his hair was practically nonexistent. Phillip’s freedoms were dwindling into nothing. He was an old man, his wife was weakening, and his own life was nearly at its end. Or so he thought.

  He walked around to the front of the house and saw two figures gingerly stepping out of a gray car. One of them was a woman he’d never seen before. She had brownish hair and a thick frame. There were lines on her face and below her eyes. She might have been in her forties. The other figure emerged, and ran to her mother’s side.

  The little girl was blond, and wore a pair of shorts and a purple shirt. Her hair was in pigtails. Her mother turned and glanced behind her when a man stepped out of the front passenger seat.

  “David,” Phillip said. “I haven’t seen you in years.” His son said nothing, forcing the child’s mother to extend her hand and smile in greeting.

  “I’m Heidy.” She and Phillip shook hands. Then she put a hand around her daughter’s shoulders and said proudly, “This is our daughter, Katherine.”

  “Good to meet you both,” Phillip said, nodding. He felt awkward in his coveralls, which smelled of manure and were covered in stains. “You’re welcome to come on in.”

  While Phillip showered, his guests made themselves comfortable on the back porch. It had always been David’s insistence against it that kept this side of the family from visiting the elder Maslins.

  And in that time long ago, when an almost oblivious child stood staring into the backyard from her vantage point on the back porch, a man who had cheated justice for many years was contemplating the visage of his granddaughter.

  She was so familiar. Her eyes were Phillip’s watery blue and her hair was just a shade brighter than a bale of hay. Surely, a man’s granddaughter was apt to take certain traits from him. But there was something different about this girl. Phillip could remember a woman from his past, a strange young lady who’d come upon the house one day. She had stayed for almost three whole months. Her hair had been golden blond and her eyes were the same striking blue. The most notable similarity had been her name—Katherine.

  As quickly as the name had come to him, a worrisome thought dawned upon Phillip. For just a moment, he wondered if it could be the same girl. Then his senses kicked in and he pushed that thought away, for it was ridiculous to think a woman could grow younger with years instead of older.

  Phillip came down that evening dressed in trousers and a nice shirt. He went to the bookcase while having a side conversation with his son’s wife. He picked up a book of Shakespeare and absentmindedly flipped through it.

  “…and the area is so lovely,” Heidy continued, “that I just thought it would be a nice day-trip for Katherine, you know?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Phillip mumbled. He was looking through Macbeth, pausing at his favorite lines, reluctant to tear his gaze from the pages. David had been the last person he wanted to see, and now his son was here—though not too close. He was out on the back porch, partly visible beyond the lacy living room curtains, his arms crossed as he stared out toward the barn.

  Thrice to thine and thrice to mine, and thrice again, to make up nine. Peace!

  Phillip heard movement near him. He looked up from where he sat and saw his granddaughter.

  “What book is that?” she asked. A laugh like a jingling of bells filled the barren room.

  “Oh, Katherine loves to read!” Heidy chimed in. “She just adores—”

  “It’s Shakespeare.” Phillip interrupted David’s wife, whom he was beginning to find repulsively irritating.

  Katherine beamed. “I love Shakespeare.”

  She came closer and peered hungrily at the old book. A child of her age, enjoying Shakespeare? It was unheard of.

  An image of the beautiful young woman Phillip remembered flitted through his mind. He heard her brazen words, filled with passion and knowledge.

  “There were many rumors that suggested Shakespeare was gay. He left his family temporarily…”

  He looked at the child before him and shook his head, trying not to think of that other woman who so resembled his own flesh and blood.

  “What’s your favorite play?” Phillip asked.

  Katherine slumped int
o a chair and let her small body go half-limp. “Macbeth.”

  He never forgot the many times Julie told him about her dream. It was always the same thing, over and over.

  It had been going on for at least six years after the start of their marriage and had continued into the present. When Phillip sat in the living room with his granddaughter and her mother, he was recalling how Julie had wept in his arms the night before, complaining of the dream that still plagued her.

  In the dream, Katherine came to her. Was it the same Katherine, the child who sat before him now?

  When their houseguest had arrived in 1960, she had befriended David and confided in him. Phillip had managed to get an explanation out of his son, but only after giving him a black eye and a couple of bruises.

  “She’s from the future,” David had said with a stony expression. When Phillip had threatened to hit the boy again, David drew his attention to the fact that her clothes had been strange and her mannerisms unusual. He also said, “Ask Mama. She’ll know. She told me about the dreams too.”

  And so he asked his wife, who admitted Katherine was the woman she had been dreaming about. Phillip hadn’t known what to think. As he spoke with his granddaughter, he watched her face. He looked for signs that she was the very same Katherine, the one he had met in 1960. He came to his conclusion—and he trusted it.

  He didn’t like the way she looked. The glint in her eye. He yelled at her before they left, and he didn’t regret it. Maybe somehow it would change things.

  Julie was suffering from something the doctors couldn’t put a name to. One man went so far as to suggest that her ailments were all psychosomatic, and Phillip had kicked him out the front door before the doctor realized what was happening.

  After Katherine left, Phillip went upstairs and took his wife’s hand.

  “Are you awake, dear?” he asked, his tone timid, for fear of startling her.

  A pair of nearly translucent lids popped open to reveal the woman’s eyes. She smiled wanly. “Hello, Phillip. I heard voices downstairs.”

  “David came by with his wife and their daughter.”

  “Oh.” Julie’s voice was pained. She laid her hands over her white nightgown and sighed. “I had been hoping that I could meet his wife and…what are their names?”

  “His wife is Heidy. And their daughter…”

  Julie’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong? What’s her name?”

  It was almost as if she already knew. There was worry in her eyes, but also regret and longing. She missed someone. She missed her terribly, just as she had been missing her own sons.

  “Her name is Katherine.”

  Chapter 12

  Shivering

  The shovel hit something with a dull clunk, and Kat dove for the ground. To her disdain, the clunk proved to have been caused by nothing more than a rock. She sighed heavily and leaned against the nearest tree.

  She was in a large clearing. Her heart was pounding. A chilly breeze swept across her body as she surveyed her progress, which didn’t amount to much. There were three shallow holes in the ground, all in different areas.

  Kat took a deep breath and tried not to cry. She knew if she shed too many tears, it would eventually lead to sinus pain and that would only add to her current level of stress. Even though she hadn’t exerted herself as much as she could have, her muscles were already aching.

  She thought for a moment, and then forced herself to continue.

  Think like the killer. Think like Phillip Maslin.

  Her eyes narrowed. She surveyed the woods as though she were looking for a place to hide a body. She shivered, as though she were changing—whether it was into a man or a beast, she couldn’t discern.

  Moss grew against trees and rocks, becoming sinister in Katherine’s searching gaze. The very ground appeared to pulse, as though inviting her to dig.

  Then she saw an old oak tree, so tall and strong that it seemed the other trees were its children, or perhaps its servants. It whispered in the breeze and Kat was compelled to go to its side, gently leaning her shovel against its gnarled trunk. She thought she heard a voice and tried to convince herself that it was just the wind. But there were words that registered in her mind and they came from one woman—

  “Here, Katherine. Here it is,” the voice whispered. Kat turned and thought she saw someone walking through the woods. Her heart skipped a beat. Goosebumps crawled across her skin. Every defense mechanism in her body told her to run, but she did not. She jumped when her visitor came out from behind a tree and smiled. It was Julie.

  “What—what are you,” Kat muttered.

  “Here it is,” her grandmother said. She was pointing toward the ground. “Be careful. Maybe you should go home.” There was sadness in her eyes, as there had always been. She was wearing high heels to match her dress. The spiked backs didn’t seem to be penetrating the earth at all. It was as though she were hovering just above the leaves.

  “I won’t go home. I have to—”

  “I told you,” Julie insisted, anxious. “Be careful.” Then she turned and disappeared.

  Kat had a mission. She had something to finish.

  She ignored her grandmother’s words and looked around the oak, first adjusting herself to the surroundings. Then she looked to the sodden earth, covered in pine needles and dead leaves. The shovel hit the dirt once more.

  The woods were lonely. Jake had chosen not to follow her. It was better this way. The shovel made harsh contact with the earth again and again, as though one angry creature were mercilessly beating another. Kat grunted and felt the sweat dripping off her brow.

  One foot down and there was nothing.

  Two feet and there were stones. Kat refused to stop digging. She allowed her determination to take over. She stopped digging when she saw something green and textured beneath a thin layer of dirt. Falling to the ground, Katherine desperately uncovered a disgustingly colored, heavy canvas bag. She prepared herself for the worst and pulled it apart

  There, on top of a carcass that was so old and so bereft of flesh that it barely exuded any scent of death, was a piece of paper. It was yellowed and had been nearly consumed by animals, but Kat could make out half of what it said and guess the rest.

  Fair is foul, and foul is fair; hover through the fog and filthy air. It didn’t make sense that this paper was still in one piece. Why?

  Crack. Kat jumped. Her heart pounded. She dropped the paper back into the bag and tried not to look at the bones she could see half-hidden by a thick cloth as she pulled the canvas shut again. John’s innocent, frightened face kept appearing in her mind, asking her, “Why, why are you covering me up again?”

  “I have to,” she muttered. Her hands worked quickly, throwing dirt over the grave. Kat did as much as she could before panicking and shooting up from the ground like a frightened cat. She had heard something break, something small—a twig?

  Don’t guess, she told herself. Just run.

  Regardless of whether or not she was fleeing because of something in her own mind or not, she still ran, her feet pounding uncomfortably across the ground until—

  She thought she saw a shadow in the corner of her eye. When she turned to look for it, it wasn’t there anymore. Then, neither was she.

  ***

  Katherine awoke with a searing headache. Her head felt as though someone had taken the liberty of inserting a screwdriver into her cranium. When she tried to open her eyes, she couldn’t see anything. When she tried to move her arms, she failed at that as well. She could feel a smooth floor, possibly wood, beneath the thin soles of her worn-out sneakers. Shoes clicked against the floor behind her and she allowed herself a quick intake of breath. Her mind had never failed her. It sounded as though whoever was behind her was wearing dress shoes.

  “Katherine.”

  She startled at the sound of her name. She could feel adrenaline taking over, coursing through her veins and threatening to do away with all common sense.

  “Katherine
, listen to me.” It was a man. There was another set of footsteps that clicked against the floor. “I know you don’t want to talk, so just listen,” the voice ordered. “You’ve been meddling in things that are none of your business. I will make a deal with you, though. If you stop looking for what isn’t there, I will let you go.” The voice was bordering on sarcastic. Whoever this person was, he was really enjoying himself. “But if you don’t do as you’re told, Katherine, your body will be food for the pigs. Do I make myself clear?”

  Kat gasped and tried to find the words. Her heart was pounding in her throat and she could barely get a syllable out of her mouth. Her entire body was shaking and she felt sick to her stomach.

  “Answer me!” the voice growled. Something hit her cheek and she recoiled at the sudden pain, wincing and turning away from her unseen attacker as much as she could.

  “I…I know,” Kat finally said.

  “You know what? That you would like to be hit again?”

  Kat pushed her head back as far as it would go. The man laughed.

  “I’ll…I’ll stop…looking,” Kat stammered. She was surprised that she was actually able to speak.

  “Good girl. But, how about a little incentive? Life won’t be very easy after this. Would you like to go back to sleep now?”

  Kat didn’t have much time to realize that the sickening crack she heard was from something hard hitting her own skull. A moment later, she was gone from that place, wherever it had been.

  ***

  The hallway was glimmering with sunlight again. Instead of keeping her distance, Julie put her hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. “Katherine, I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “It’s all right. I’m not really sure what happened anyway.” She lifted a hand and winced. “My head is killing me. I’m not going to die, am I?”

  “Of course not, darling. You’ll be all right.” Somewhere in the dream, a wind chime jingled melodically.